Only for the Weekend – Part 1: Terminal Temptations
The low hum of late-afternoon traffic echoed through the terminals of OR Tambo International Airport. February sunlight filtered through the glass, bathing everything in a warm golden haze. It was that stretch of day where time softened—where work slipped into memory, and the weekend began to stretch its arms.
Christopher stood in line at security, his lean frame relaxed but alert. At 1.86 meters tall, with broad shoulders tapering into a cleanly cut waist, he wore fitted khaki chinos and a crisp light-blue shirt. His brown hair was neatly styled, his green eyes sharp behind his glasses. The week had been good to him—a successful trip, closed deals, and the satisfying hum of momentum well maintained.
Ahead of him, five young women moved through security with chaotic ease—bags slung over shoulders, giggles exchanged, yoga pants clinging with careless confidence. There was a sparkle to them, an electricity born of friendship and freedom. They looked like they were made of sunlight and mischief, and they didn’t know how dangerous that could be.
He caught fragments of their conversation.
“Cape Town is delayed. Two hours!”
“No way. Seriously? What do we even do now?”
“Drinks?”
“I need tequila. And chips.”
“I need a cocktail and a miracle.”
One of them turned slightly. A petite brunette with curves that curved at all the right places and the kind of smile that could short-circuit sense. She caught him looking. Not just glanced—caught him. Held him. Smirked knowingly.
And then turned back around.
Oh, this is going to be dangerous, he thought.
As they regrouped beyond security, adjusting shoes, chatting over phones and flight alerts, Christopher walked by them slowly—deliberately catching a snippet.
“I’m heading for a beer,” he said casually, turning to them with a smile that was just shy of arrogant. “If you’re deciding what to do for two hours, may I suggest a drink? Seems better than pacing around watching departure boards.”
They looked up. Amused. Melany raised a perfectly shaped brow. Lindy tilted her head, lips parting. Aubrey blinked, her dark eyes locking on his with surprise.
“You want to drink with us?” Lindy said.
“I’d be disappointed if you said no.”
The tall blonde, clearly the leader, gave a grin that hinted at trouble.
“Let’s go, girls. Weekend starts now.”
He turned and led them to the airport craft brewery, nestled beside a wall of glass overlooking the tarmac. Warm wood tables, beer tanks visible through steel pipes, and a local playlist humming overhead.
The girls slid into a large booth. He ordered a lager on tap—cold, clean, refreshing. They each selected a cocktail—Aubrey went with a mojito, Lindy a strawberry daiquiri, Melany a French 75, Jade asked for a G&T with cucumber, and Ana chose a cosmopolitan.
When the waitress returned, he asked for two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc for the table. Crisp. Local. His favorite.
They toasted.
“To flights delayed…” Lindy grinned.
“To drinks served…” Melany added, her eyes flicking to Christopher’s mouth.
“To being young and hot and out of class!” Aubrey finished, giggling.
The tension built steadily. Playful at first—then sharper.
Christopher sat beside Lindy, the petite brunette with spectacular curves. Her thigh pressed against his, casual at first, then deliberate. Her hand grazed his knee once, then settled there. She didn’t look at him. Just kept smiling. Talking. Touching.
Melany, the tall bombshell of a blonde, sat across from him. Legs crossed. Fingers running over the stem of her glass. Eyes that held his gaze just long enough to make him wonder what she was thinking.
Aubrey sat beside her, quieter, but not absent. She watched Christopher in between comments, her expression flickering between amusement and curiosity.
Oh shit, she thought once, when their eyes met and lingered just a beat too long. Where is this going?
They talked about Stellenbosch. About Aubrey’s birthday. About Cape Town.
Christopher told them he’d studied in Stellenbosch too. That he still lived nearby—Erinvale. That he loved food and wine and didn’t mind showing five curious girls around.
“You’re not flying with us?” Ana asked.
“No,” he said, checking his watch. “My flight’s in about twenty minutes.”
“So you followed us, knowing you had less time?” Melany asked, leaning forward.
He met her gaze. “Would you have said no if I hadn’t?”
She smiled slowly. “No. I’d have said hurry.”
They shared shooters then. Tequila. Salt. Lemon. Laughter and coughing and mock horror.
It felt electric. Unreal.
He paid the bill—quietly. Efficiently. Melany caught the motion and arched a brow, but didn’t stop him.
As they stood to leave, Lindy slipped her hand into his for a second.
“You were fun,” she said. Her eyes said something else entirely.
Christopher leaned into her, kissed her cheek, and whispered,
“We’re not done.”
He hugged Aubrey. She pressed close. He held her just a second longer than necessary. Her hand rested lightly on his stomach.
Melany came last. She leaned in. Her lips at his ear.
“Next time I see you…” she whispered, “…I won’t be wearing underwear.”
He squeezed her hip. Smirked. “That’s a promise I’ll make sure you keep.”
He turned, walked to his gate.
Epilogue: Touchdown
Ninety minutes later, wheels touched down in Cape Town. The seatbelt light pinged off. Christopher powered on his phone and slipped it into his palm as the screen lit up with a flood of notifications—emails, missed calls, work reminders.
And then... two WhatsApp messages from unsaved numbers.
Lindy – 17:58
“Hey stranger 😏 I hope your flight was as smooth as your charm… I can still feel that kiss 😘 Don’t keep me waiting too long. I bite.”
Melany – 18:03
“So... Mr. Smooth Operator 😈 next time you kiss one of my friends, it better be ME you’re kissing. Otherwise, we’ll have a problem… 💋”
Then came a photo. Melany, in the airport bathroom mirror. Her dress low. The angle deliberate. Her pout just this side of obscene.
Caption: “I’m waiting 😈”
Christopher laughed—quiet, low, delighted.
To Lindy:
“You bite? Good. I plan to devour you. Be ready.”
To Melany:
“I never break promises. And next time won’t be in public. Wear nothing.”
The plane rolled to the gate.
Cape Town was warm, and the weekend had just begun.
